


Sustain

by mrsNobley



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsNobley/pseuds/mrsNobley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right. So, once upon a time there was a prompt. But I twisted it a bit and here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sustain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt is in the notes at the end. Many thanks to my betas for their invaluable help.

  
Should she go and follow them? Is there anything she...? What's the point?  
The front door closed with a creak.  
She was standing still in the bedroom staring at the wall in front of her. Hundreds of thoughts ran through her head, yet none of it seemed to make any sense.  
A streak of sunlight sneaking through the half-closed blinds made the dust in the air visible.  
'Dead silence'. She would have smirked at the sheer irony of that thought, had she any control over what was going on.  
It's hard to determine how long she was standing there, but the sunbeam was now caressing the white sheets on the bed.  
Not really conscious of her actions she moved, step by step, and sat down on the bed stroking the lightspot with her right hand.  
She paused as numbness was teared by the feeling.  
The sheets were still warm.

Was her hand trembling?  
She laid herself down noiselessly, familiar smell enveloping her and sabotaging all of her senses.  
Inhale - that rainy day when he kissed her for the first time, his impossible hair tickling her cheek; the feeling of her small hand in his much bigger one; that kissable spot just below his ear; skin on skin; him softly whispering her name.  
Exhale.

The sun was setting down.  
Tiny footsteps and soft mewling, extraordinarily audible in the overwhelming silence, indicated it was already time to feed the cat.  
Slowly, she rose from the bed and despite slight dizziness followed the feline to the kitchen.

The stillness was daunting though nothing seemed really out of place. Yesterday's newspaper was still lying on the table, the crossword unfinished. The Spitfire mug with half-finished tea sat on the counter next to the oil-stained cotton cloth.  
She fed the cat and went to the living room.

The old clock was sitting forlorn on the piano as if it had forgotten its purpose.  
She approached the instrument, tempted to play. The fallboard was open, the second movement of Beethoven's _Sonata Pathetique_ still on the music rack. She reached to touch the keys but hesitated and eventually withdrew her hand.  
It seemed unseemly to her to disturb the silence, as if that could change something.  
As if that would change anything.

This time she almost laughed. She hadn't felt a thing; no premonition, no indication, nothing. And she should have felt something! She should have known! How is she supposed to find her way around here, alone? How is she supposed to even want to do so, when her world as she knew it has come to an end? Everything is different.  
But the thing is, nothing has changed really, has it? Her heart is still pumping blood, the sun's set down, tomorrow's going to be a new day, they'll have to let the cat out in the mor-

She stopped ranting mid-thought as the lump in her throat grew impossible to ignore. Suddenly her knees were too weak to support her and she plopped ungracefully on the couch. How long had she been crying? Minutes? Hours? What day was it? Why was the clock running backwards?

She tried to calm herself down taking deep slow breaths but the room spun regardless and soon she was claimed by darkness.  
  
*  
  
She opened her eyes slowly. The place was dark and silent, the only thing disrupting the odd tranquility was her racing pulse pounding in her ears.  
And his steady breathing.  
She turned over and wrapped her arm around him.  
Warmth.  
His long hair tickled her nose as she placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck.  
Inhale - lemons; skin; sweat. Home.  
Exhale.  
It was when he started to stir that she noticed how tight her grip on him was.  
Right then he turned over mumbling incoherently, enveloping her in a tight embrace.  
Safety.

As the sun rose above the Hammersmith's rooftops, she finally fell asleep with his name on her lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Write a scene that happens right after a tradegy. Don’t mention the tragedy"


End file.
